


Bruises of the Faithful

by LinnyBear



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Prompt Fic, Things You Said Fic, Tumblr Prompt, fic request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 06:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6068887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinnyBear/pseuds/LinnyBear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Things You Said While I Was Crying." Cassandra is too drunk to refuse help, and tries to hate every minute of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bruises of the Faithful

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a prompt for vrashsun on tumblr. It takes place after the infamously painful Low Approval Cassandra scene. Go look it up on youtube if you want to die a little inside :')

She’s drunk.

She’s drunk and angry and she doesn’t want to talk to anyone else. The smith’s apprentice is finally paying her no mind as she sits in the hay, drinking and sobbing.

There’s no other word for it. She’s sobbing her inebriated heart out. She feels it heavy in her head, and knows she probably looks disgusting, but doesn’t care.

She trusted him. She  _ trusted  _ him. She put so much of her faith in that damned Inquisitor - and she had to go and make him Inquisitor, didn’t she? Because she put her faith in the Maker to protect them, and then took the first accident she saw as a miracle. 

_ Pathetic.  _

He had been right. She is pathetic, sitting alone in the dark and drinking. Drinking, and sobbing, like a child who hadn’t gotten her way. 

But she can’t stop. Not for tonight. Tonight, she will sit and wallow. And tomorrow, she will gather herself, and figure out where to go next.

“Seeker? You all right?”

_ Shit.  _ Of all the people to find her in this state.

“Go, Varric.” She tries to keep her voice from sounding thick with years. “You are the last person I want to see now. Next to last.”

“... Shit, Seeker, are you  _ drunk?”  _ The incredulity in his voice sounds too much like mocking. How dare he.

“Go make fun of someone else’s misery, you ass.” She growls out, the sounds sticking in her throat.

“No, I’m not… You’re crying too.” He makes his way around the hay bale to face her, and she’s surprised to see not a smile, but concern marking his features. That… Is almost worse.

“It is none of your concern. I will be fine in the morning.” She will force herself to be.

Still, she doesn't fight him when he gently takes the bottle from her hand, sets it aside. She isn't sure why - it is humiliating enough to have this kind of help, but from  _ Varric _ of all people.

But she is tired. She is tired, and sad, and drunk, and crying, and feels really, horribly alone. So she doesn't fight him taking the bottle from her hands. She doesn't fight him wiping her tears away with the sleeve of his tunic. And she doesn't fight him carefully pulling her into his arms, to rest her head on his shoulder.

"You can hate me for this in the morning, Seeker." He's being so painfully gentle with her. She wants to hate him for it now, but can't find the strength. "For now, let's get you some water, and into bed?"

She shakes her head, but doesn't pull away. "I'm fine." She sniffles, like a sobbing child. "Go away." 

"Later, I promise. Later."

She shakes her head, but finds herself gripping at his tunic. "Why do I do this, Varric? Why did I think the Maker would send us someone like... Like  _ him _ . How... How dare he." She's sobbing again. She wants to care and can't. She's just so tired of fighting.

He lets out a long breath, realization seeming to dawn on him. He starts rubbing small circles over her back. "Because you care with everything you have. And believe in people stronger than anyone I've met. And people want to take advantage of that, and they shouldn't, damn it."

Her sniffles quiet for a moment. She pulls back to look him in the eye. "I might be drunk. But I believe that was a compliment." 

He grins. Bastard. "Maybe. You do seem pretty drunk to me."

"Ass." 

"As always, Seeker." She snorts at that, a horrible, ugly sound, she thinks, but he just smiles wider. "Now, let's get you settled, and you can pretend this never happened and go right back to throwing tables and stabbing books in the morning."

She laughs, then, through her sniffling, her crying starting to subside. "I might have to stab an entire library to regain my dignity from this."

And whether that warmth in her chest is from the liquor, or the light in his eyes when he genuinely laughs at her joke, she doesn't know. But the warmth doesn't leave, even as he helps her settle into her bedroll, and she drifts off to a restful, dreamless sleep.


End file.
